The Harry Potter of Starfleet Academy
by Lanaroolz
Summary: Wesley leaves all that he's ever known for the Academy. What happens when rumor-turned-reality forces him to fight for things he never knew he had? With friends and enemies alike, Wesley must stand up for his new life and his old one at the Academy gates.
1. Just a Beginning

**THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER  
**Just had to get that out of my system. ;D

A/N: Okay, I don't know why I have such a urge to write about Wesley, of all people, but I can't help myself. I plan on making this a long series (this is the **prologue**) about Wesley at the Academy, so I have a disclaimer: I'm only about half-way through the fourth season of TNG. If I update this series faster that I can watch Star Trek (highly unlikely), then some discrepancies might occur. PLEASE message me if this happens, I want to know. And I know that I'm going to get some flames, just because it's Wesley, but, hey, if you're willing to review... Just try to enjoy it. =D

* * *

The party was noisy, to say the least. Wesley never felt comfortable at parties, especially when they were for him. Oh, it was flattering, yes; but he didn't need a thousand-some people slapping him on the back, or forcing awkward conversations.

You see, Ensign Wesley Crusher was leaving the _USS Enterprise-D _for Starfleet Academy. Finally, after what seemed like a hundred times of failing, getting in but not getting there, or missing the exam, he was finally going to Starfleet Academy. So, it was his going away party at Ten Forward. And it was him that everyone was focused on. So, naturally, it was him that was trying to avoid the awkward conversations with people he'd never met. But maybe it was better then having an awkward conversation with his mom.

"Wesley!" First Officer William Riker appeared out of nowhere, slapping him on the back. "The good ole' Academy, I remember my first day…"

"It's not my first day, Commander. I'm leaving tomorrow after accompanying Captain Picard to Pentarus III."

"But I won't be there to tell you then! So you'll just have to make do with right now."

"Leave him alone Riker! He doesn't want to listen to you ramble about your Academy days," Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge cut in. He then turned to Wesey, "So, are you really going this time? Or are they just pulling your leg about the whole open-spot thing?"

"I'm pretty sure it's real this time," Wesley stammered, afraid that he might jinx it.

"Pulling your leg, Geordi?" Second Officer Data questioned with a perplexed look on his face. "I fail to see—"

"I'll explain it later," Geordi hurriedly cut him off. He wasn't in the mood for a long-winded explanation of old Earth metaphors.

"Nervous, Wes?" Counselor Deanna Troi asked, sensing his emotions.

"Just about, you know, getting along with my class mates," Wesley admitted. He had been around the same people for over three years, his making-friends ability hadn't been exercised in quite a while; he wasn't sure he could.

"Wesley, that's the last thing you need to worry about! You're going to be the Harry Potter of Starfleet! Served as an Ensign on the Federation flagship before you got accepted at the Academy! People will be lining up to do your homework!" Riker claimed, a little over excitedly.

"I fail to see the connection between Ensign Crusher and a fictional character from the early twenty-first century," Data said, once again confused.

"Teachers will love you," Riker went on, completely ignoring Data's question. "There'll be a thousand cadets looking up to you, a million tests waiting to be aced—"

"We get the picture, Commander," Geordi cut in on Riker's speech.

"Really, Wes, it'll be fine. There are tons of people at the Academy, and one of them is just waiting to be your friend. You might even enjoy it more than the _Enterprise_," Troi explained, sensing Wesley's skepticism on the matter. "Everyone's nervous on their first day at a new school."

"Uh, yeah, right," Wesley once again stammered, he was trying to find a loophole in this conversation where he could slip out.

Like clockwork, Counselor Troi distracted the other members of the senior staff, turning to wink at Wesley when it was safe to run. He tried to escape as inconspicuously as possible, knowing he couldn't be at peace in Ten Forward.

After exiting onto deck ten, Wesley let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he'd been holding in. He could return to the party later; right now, he just needed to be alone. Musing on what the others would do when they noticed he was gone, he let himself tour the ship, no destination in mind.

This ship… god, was she beautiful. He was leaving her. Why was he doing that? He was already a fully ranked ensign. He suddenly understood why Commander Riker kept turning down all those offers of command. Sure, it'd be great to run your own ship, but they could never come close to the _Enterprise_. On the _Enterprise_, he felt at home. On the _Enterprise_, he had a family: the kind he never had before. The kind he probably would never find again. And what was he leaving her for? The Academy? Leaving a position on a Starship to learn how to have a position on a Starship? It was ridiculous. It was the kind of ironic ridiculous that Data would make mincemeat out of, trying to explain. Why did he need to go to the Academy? Couldn't he just stay here? Wesley turned a corner.

But, no, he couldn't. He couldn't stay here just because it was his home. All around the galaxy, people, people just like him, were leaving their homes to join Starfleet; to go to the Academy. He was a lucky one, already having served on a Starship, and he was cheating the rules by doing so before even seeing the Academy, much less graduating. Serving on the _Enterprise_ wasn't what he was meant to do. Leaving was what he had to do. Leaving was just his beginning; the beginning that scares everyone half to death. But it was happening, he was leaving, so he had better just keep a stiff upper lip and deal with it, because nothing was going to stop it. The _Enterprise_ would live on without him; and he, without it.

Wesley turned the corner to come face-to-face to the doors to Ten Forward. He released a sigh he didn't know he'd been holding and walked through them. Walking to the spot he'd been standing in before, he grinned to see Counselor Troi, still distracting the senior staff. Evidently, what she was saying was very interesting.

"You've got a point, Deanna, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Wesley will do just fine," Commander Riker said, slinging an arm across Wesley's shoulders.

"Yes, I think you're right, Will. He'll be just fine."

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think? This is going to be my first long-running story, so I hope it started out well. I know Wesley isn't exactly your favorite character, but I promise I'll try to keep this story interesting. Review and tell me how I did!


	2. A Closet's Closet

A/N: Okay, there is going to be SOMETHING contradicting the canon in this fanfiction eventually, because I'm just making things up as I go (about the Academy), there's only so much Memory Alpha can do for me. So, if that happens, PLEASE, PLEASE tell me! I want to fix it. And Wesley may seem kind of like a whiny bitch, but he IS a whiny bitch, so I figured you wouldn't mind. =D

* * *

Wesley shuffled awkwardly into his new dorm, 734C, trying to stand erect while carrying nearly everything he owned in luggage. Looking around, he noted which bed was empty and dumped his metal duffel bags onto it. Just by looking at the stuff already occupying the room, he knew it was going to be difficult to adjust.

For Cadet (previously fully ranked Ensign) Wesley Crusher had just arrived at Starfleet Academy. He'd just arrived at the dorm he'd be living at for the remainder of the semester, possibly until he graduated. Thinking about how long that was made his heart clench; the _USS Enterprise-D_ had been much more… homey. This small room could only be described as a closet. He already missed everything about what he'd left and had to remind himself exactly why he did that; for around the fiftieth time in the past five hours.

Classes were still in session, so his roommate was nowhere to be seen. What was to be seen, however, was all of the video game consoles with their corresponding video games, all of the posters of professional sports players, and someone's (presumably his roommate's) homework, all over the whole closet-room. Upon setting some things on the empty desk, he found a note addressed to 'New Roommate.' Wesley examined it more closely, assuming that to be him.

"New Roommate-  
Hey! I heard you'd arrive during classes, so I figured I'd introduce myself before you go explore and I don't see you 'til curfew, or something. I'm Tyler, 2nd year at the engineering school, where you'll be, too. I think you'll even be in some of my classes, since I've heard you're some sort of freak genius."

Wesley groaned audibly, he did not need to be known as the 'Freak Genius.'

"I'll introduce you to some of my friends when I get the chance; they're psyched to meet 'The Kid Who Served on the Enterprise.'"

Suddenly, 'Freak Genius' didn't seem so bad.

"Well, I got to get ready for Statistical Mechanics, talk to you later!  
- Ty"

Well, at least he already had one friend. More, if you included Tyler's. Wesley sighed as he unpacked his clothes and hung them up in his closet's closet. He had to report of a campus tour at 0500, exactly thirteen minutes from now.

It was right then, thirteen minutes 'til 0500, when Wesley reached into his pile of clothes and pulled out his uniform, his Starfleet uniform. Looking at the glorious, red outfit, his stomach tightened and he couldn't help but chuck it across the closet. As it hit the wall and crumpled to the ground in a heap, Wesley buried his face in his hands. That uniform, that ship, was where he belonged. It was worth never attending the Academy to serve on the _Enterprise _for the remainder of Captain Picard's command. But that's not where he was; that's not who he was, anymore. He leaned over to gently collect the garment and hung it carefully, so you couldn't see it behind his Academy ones. He decided he would finish later and left that room as quickly as possible and made his way through the dormitories and out the building.

-

At precisely four minutes to 0500, Wesley was waiting at the designated spot and saw a rather tall, broad-shouldered man making his way toward him, waving him down. Wesley managed a half-hearted grin and waved back. Although they both knew exactly who each other were, the greeting was just as if they'd never heard each other's names before:

"Hey there," the man said, surprisingly not breathlessly, even though he'd covered all that distance in thirty seconds. "I'm Counselor Lars Gallo."

"Cadet Wesley Crusher," as he said it, the word _cadet_ felt sharp on his tongue, wrong somehow.

"Nervous?" Counselor Gallo asked, misreading the emotion on his face.

"A little," Wesley grinned, for real this time. It was the first true thing he'd said all day. And all day he'd only been around himself.

"Well, Cadet," Wesley internally winced, "I'm going to be your Counselor for the remainder of your Starfleet Academy Career, and I'm here to take you on a tour of the campus. Shall we proceed?"

"Affirmative, Counselor," Wesley said in a professional monotone, it made him feel more comfortable.

Gallo laughed rather loudly. "Save that for your professors! You can talk to me like you'd do your friends. Or do you talk to your friends that way?" He asked with a glint in his eye.

"It's been a while since I've had friends my own age," Wesley admitted. They were either Starfleet personal or children on the_ Enterprise_. There weren't a lot of eighteen-year-olds there_._

"Ah, yes, the _Enterprise_," Gallo remarked, "how long did you serve aboard her?"

"Just over three years," Wesley knew that he was just making small talk; Gallo would already know everything in his Personal File.

"She's a beautiful ship."

"That she is."

-

The tour was almost two hours long, it was a large campus. Wesley already knew where everything was; he'd looked it up on the main computer back when he'd though he was going to the Academy the first time, and all the subsequent times after that. Needless to say, he could've finished every one of Gallo's sentences, they were all text-book. After the tour was over, Gallo shook his hand for what seemed like a extensive period of time, and claimed how lucky he was to be his counselor, also, to remind him, if he _ever_ needed anything, to go to him. It was all a little queer, but Wesley just grinned and bore it; he would, after all, probably be seeing a lot of him.

When Wesley returned to his dorm, he was mildly surprised (although he really shouldn't have been) to see someone there. A slightly stout young man with short, curly, brown hair was sitting on the other bed; that would be Tyler.

"Hey, Hey! You must be that Wesley kid."

"I should think so," 'That Wesley Kid' responded.

"Cadet Tyler Fillmore," he reached out a hand.

"Cadet Wesley Crusher," Wesley felt the stinging again as he shook it.

"Not Ensign?"

"Not anymore." Okay, _now_ he felt the stinging.

"Ouch, that sucks, dude."

"It isn't so bad." Wesley grinned in spite of himself. It'd been a long time since he'd been addressed 'dude.'

"'O course not! 'Cause you get to room with me," Tyler said, making vicious gestures between the two of them. "I'm 'a tell my friends to come and meet you right now!"

"No, that's—" but it was no use. Tyler was already insisting someone over his communicator to 'get his ass over here.'

Tyler turned to face Wesley. "No, I insist."

At nearly that moment, short, black-haired teenage boy burst into the room. After collecting himself from his impact with the door, he set his eyes on Wesley.

"Cadet Kyle Simmons. And you must be the '_Enterprise_ Kid.'"

"Cadet Wesley Crusher." Wesley almost felt like crying in a corner.

"Oh, my god, you need to tell us what it's like to serve aboard a Galaxy-class Starship! How did you even get a position?" Kyle nearly screamed.

"Uh, there's a lot to tell…"

"Start from the beginning."

Wesley sighed. He would probably be telling a lot of this story, so he might as well get his facts straight now. So Wesley took a deep breath and dived into it.

* * *

A/N: I might not be able to update until after Spring Break, so if you're waiting for an actual plot, you'll have to wait some more. =D Sorry!


	3. The Philosophy of a Book's Cover

A/N: Hey there! I'd just like to thank all the people that favorited and alerted this story! It really means a lot to me. I know I promised CNJ a subspace message with Beverly, but I could not be more sure that it's going to be in the next chapter (I've already started writing it in my head), so don't worry. Once again, tell me if I screw up the canon, I'm only in season four (the last disc!); I don't exactly qualify as a nitpicker. If you don't get where I'm going with this story, I'll say at the end, but it's pretty obvious. I checked about thirty-five billion times if I spelled _Ferengi_ right. If I didn't, I think I'll cry.

* * *

"…and then we finally got Ambassador Troi back from the Ferengi, but I missed the _USS Bradbury_. That's why I couldn't come at the beginning of the semester, but, I did get promoted to a full Ensign."

"So, Commander Riker is still alive because you figured out the message in the subspace interference?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"How'd you convince the Ferengi to give the Ambassador back?"

"Captain Picard can be very… persuasive."

Wesley finished his story on what appeared to be a high note, seeing as the group of students all around him seemed to have an unlimited number of questions. It'd been like this all day: everyone wanted to know what it was like on the _Enterprise_, to serve on a Starship. He couldn't blame them.

Cadet Wesley Crusher was eating a very late lunch on his first day at Starfleet Academy. He had tried to remain low-key, but, unfortunately, that hadn't worked so well. A nice amount of students had gathered to listen after he had, at Gloria's request, explained just exactly how he became an Acting Ensign. Of course, that followed immediately with how he became a fully ranked Ensign and would undoubtedly be followed by another story that his classmates would ask to hear after they were through with their questions.

"Is Ambassador Troi really that good-looking?"

"Uh, I guess it's—"

"Oh, Wes, look at the time; it's almost 0300. We'd better get going," Gloria Evans piped up from beside him. They had Ancient Philosophies together, as well as Exobiology and Stellar Cartography; the latter being the class they met. Gloria was… well, _stellar_ in Stellar Cartography. It was scary how she seemed to have every corner of the galaxy memorized, up until the most recent planets charted by Wesley's own _Enterprise_. That's where she really wanted to serve, and Wesley had no doubt that, eventually, she'd be the one charting those planets: her skills were that remarkable.

"Yeah," Wesley stood up unbelievably fast, nearly sending his food tray flying. He really wanted to get away from all the people everywhere. Although there would be just as many people in his class, and on the way, he really needed to get out of the cafeteria.

Gloria gave him a knowing smile, "Let's get out of here." With that, the two left the building, only to be immediately joined by Cadet Tyler Fillmore, Wesley's roommate.

"Hey, how's the first day going?" Tyler asked Wesley with a slightly musical tone in his voice.

"Not so good," Wesley responded flatly.

"The cadets are beating him up with questions," Gloria grinned. "No one will leave him alone."

"Reasonable. I only have about five hundred-billion myself," Tyler admitted.

"Not helping," Wesley groaned. "I just want to be ignored like everyone else; like you."

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on, you know it's true. With seven brothers and two sisters, you're nothing the Academy hasn't seen before," Gloria claimed. She was only half right though; with all those siblings, everyone knew who he was. He was, however, more commonly known as Fillmore 8 than Tyler.

"Need I repeat: HEY! That hurts you know." Tyler folded his arms across his chest as his classmates poked fun at him the rest of the way.

-

Sitting down in Ancient Philosophies, there was more than one kid who craned their neck to get a peak at the _Enterprise _Kid. Wesley couldn't help but wonder how much that had to hurt. He glanced at the schedule on his PADD. Pravus Atrox was his teacher, Wesley got a cold feeling just looking at the name; it would be nothing compared to the cold feeling he'd get when he looked at his face.

The doors burst open. A rather harsh looking man in a yellow Starfleet uniform almost slithered into the room and threw his things on his desk while barely making a sound. He searched through his things while giving directions to the classroom. Previously rather noisy, the students all sat straight upright and immediately started writing down whatever he said. Unfortunately, Wesley was too stunned to move at all.

"…We all remember Socrates from yesterday. If you didn't do the reading, I suggest you use whatever messaging system you use these days and ask a friend for a summery, because we're moving on to Aristotle and there's a quiz in thirty minutes. Under subcategory 5-7, part G is where we're starting, if you haven't read A through F—what do we have here?" He suddenly cut off and stared at Wesley, so conspicuously place front-and-center. "A new student? Ah, yes, the _Enterprise _Kid."

Wesley couldn't even move. He was so stricken with absolute fear that he could hardly breathe. Atrox moved closer as he seemed to glare him down to a melting point, a sinister grin on his face.

"Since Mr. Crusher has had the privilege of serving on a Galaxy-class Starship, I'm sure he knows a few things about the little, old teachings of the philosophers of Greece. Now, tell me, Cadet, who was Aristotle's successor?"

"I don't know," Wesley managed to choke out after what seemed to be a very long moment. Gloria shot him a nervous glance.

"Don't know?" Atrox stepped back and looked at the nervous, sympathetic faces of the rest of his students. "Well, let's try again. What was Plato's view on Athenian Democracy? I didn't ask you!" he snapped at Gloria who tried to raise her hand.

"I—don't know," Wesley started to sweat.

"Memory blank you say? No fear, how about one more chance: What was the Theory of Forms?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Is that so?" Atrox examined the damage that he'd done: Wesley was visibly shaking, Tyler, biting his nails viciously, and Gloria obviously wanted to whisper the answers in Wesley's ear; but she knew there was no way to get them to him with everyone staring at him. Everyone _was_ staring at him, with looks varying from horrid disbelief to outright amusement. Ah, his favorite student.

Blake Dewey was trying to hold in his laughter, evidently, quite painfully. He was clearly enjoying every minute of Wesley's torture, and probably would love to watch it go on longer, Unfortunately for him, Professor Atrox thought that he had made his point quite clear.

"Not at all? I see. Serving aboard a Starship, clearly, isn't everything. By the way, Aristotle's successor was Theophrastus; Plato favored the rule of one, very educated, dictator; and the Theory of Forms is the theory that ideas possess the highest form of sensuality and that the material world is, simply, a ghost. Why aren't you writing this down?" he demanded, and, with that, the rest of the two-and-a-half, double class period continued as such.

* * *

A/N: If you can't tell, I'm making a lot of Harry Potter parallels. Hence the name of the story. Don't worry, I'm not going to copy the plot, or anything; just wait and see.

If I get some _reviews_, I might be able to update by Friday... (Ain't blackmail great?)

Oh! I pinkie-promise that Gloria's not a Mary-Sue, just have a little faith. ;D


	4. Invasion of Teenage Boys

A/N: Okay, I know I promised this on Friday... I'll update faster after MUNI is over (Props if you know what that is). For now, you can expect chapters once a week. Some of my readers were a little confused, so I'm going to spell this out for you: this story isn't a crossover. There is a separate crossover section. My story is not in it. Sorry for the confusion.

I think the dialogue between Beverly and Wesley is a little awkward. CNJ, if you have any suggestions, now is the time. Also, a shout out to Luna Kompton for reviewing about thirty seconds after I posted the last chapter. Thanks!

* * *

Wesley paced back and forth in his dorm. He was waiting for his subspace message to reach the _USS Enterprise-D_, and for his mom to answer it.

Cadet Wesley Crusher had spent a week at Starfleet Academy. It had been Friday, after classes, when he walked into his dorm, saw the computer on the wall above his desk, and nearly slapped himself: he'd gone almost an entire week, on the other side of the Galaxy, without even sending an 'I'm fine' to his mother. If she didn't have all of Sickbay to be worried about, she'd be worried sick.

"Wesley?" said a voice from the other side of the room.

"Mom! Oh my god, I'm so sorry I didn't subspace you before! I was just so caught up with—"

"Don't worry about it, honey," Beverly smiled. "I know how my first week at the Academy was. Although, I do remember talking with my Nana every day…"

"Okay, I get the point," Wesley laughed. He didn't realize how much he'd missed her.

Commander Beverly Crusher, MD, was Wesley's mother. She served aboard the _Enterprise _as the Chief Medical Officer. The only family he really had was his mom. He couldn't imagine how the mess of the Academy let him forget about her, even for a second. The familiar comfort of causality sank in as he dived into the conversation.

"How are your classes going?" Beverly asked, after the informalities, 'I miss you's, and whatnot were through.

"Great! You should see my grade in Exobiology; I bet you didn't even think they graded that high!" Wesley grinned.

"Who's your teacher? Is it that really old Andorian who's obsessed with Charles Darwin?"

"YES! Every five seconds she finds a way to tie him into our lesson, and we're learning about viruses on Gamma Draconis III."

"Oh, do I remember her; she was my favorite teacher because of how crazy she was," Beverly reminisced, smiling.

"She might be mine, too. It's either her or the Vulcan teaching Astrophysics. What was his name? Sutok?"

"Mm, didn't have him. Who are your other teachers?"

As Wesley counted off his teachers, and their quarks, Beverly couldn't help but smile. She'd been so worried about him (Would he fit in? Would people make fun of him?), but inquiries about his roommate lead to a conversation about all of the other friends he'd made and the faculty he had gotten along with. Of course, she missed him, but he was eighteen, for god's sake, he should be out on his own; he should be at the Academy. Beverly couldn't be happier that Wesley was happy.

"So, basically, you have great friends, everyone wants to know you, you're getting A's in all your classes, and all your teachers love you?" She questioned, after the conversation dragged on an hour or two.

"Well, _almost_ all the teachers…" Wesley trailed off; he didn't feel like talking about that one teacher who seemed to hate his guts.

"Aw, who? It's not Mrs. Darwin, is it?" Beverly asked with her voice full of concern.

"Just my Ancient Philosophies professor, Atrox Something," Wesley was about to add 'It's no big deal,' but stopped short at the look on his mom's face.

"Atrox? Pravus Atrox?" Beverly's eyes widened in shock at the prospect.

"Yeah, did you have him?" Wesley asked, perplexed by his mother's unusual reaction.

"No—no he's not that old. I mean, I went to the Academy with him. He was in Ancient Philosophies with me..." Beverley couldn't believe that she was even thinking about that man again.

"Oh, that's funny," Wesley said awkwardly; he wasn't sure how to respond to the look on his mom's face.

"Yeah, funny…"

Just then, the door of Wesley's dorm doors slid open and Tyler Fillmore, Wesley's roommate, walked in, laughing about something with Kyle Simmons.

"Hey, Wes," Tyler said, slapping him on the back. It took him a while to figure out—

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to intrude," Tyler apologized, stepping back from Wesley's desk.

"No, it's okay, I have to go check on, uh, Odan, right. I'll talk to you later, Wesley," Beverly hurried, grasping at the way out of the suddenly, extremely awkward conversation.

"See you later, Mom," Wesley said, confused at his mom's reaction.

"What's up with her? Tyler wondered aloud, after a brief pause.

"I have no idea," Wesley responded, utterly confused.

-

Beverly Crusher sat at her desk, perfectly still, with her hand still resting on the button she pressed to turn off the screen in front of her. She could hardly say or think anything, much less bring herself to move. She hadn't heard the name Pravus Atrox in a long time.

She stood up unsteadily. Beverly knew this wasn't going to interfere with her relationship with Odan, but she needed to shake this feeling. Sighing, Beverly left her tricorder on her desk and made her way to Deanna Troi's quarters, trying to sort her thoughts out on the way.

When she got there, Beverly rung the chimes earnestly, praying that Deanna would be there. A "Come in" from beyond the door raised her hopes considerably.

"Are you alright?" a concerned voice said from across the room. Counselor Deanna Troi was sitting on a couch opposite the entrance.

"Deanna," Beverly sat down next to her on the couch, "do you remember the time I told you about the man I met before Jack?"

"You mean the week-long relationship?"

"That's the one."

"Yes," Deanna smiled, "I remember."

"Well—he's Wesley's Ancient Philosophies teacher."

-

Wesley sat on the side of his bed, laughing along with Tyler about a Darwin joke Kyle told. He had completely forgotten about the weird look on his mom's face that afternoon. All of them had forgotten about dinner in the Cafeteria five minutes ago.

_Wes? Tyler? Where are you guys?_

It took the disoriented boys a few seconds to realize where the noise was coming from. Wesley soon exclaimed "Oh!" and tapped the communicator on his chest.

"Gloria, you scared the crap out of us!" Tyler yelled before Wesley could say anything.

"You need any thing, Gloria?" Wesley asked, trying to hold back his laughter.

"I think the question is do you need anything. Dinner? Five minutes ago? Where are you?"

"Dinner!" The three boys shouted and nearly ran into the door on their way out of the dorm.

As Tyler, Wesley, and Kyle walked through the Cafeteria entrance, they spotted Gloria before she saw them. She rolled her eyes upon seeing Tyler and Kyle's frantic waves from across the room. The boys gestured to the replicators and hurried over to the line they deemed as the shortest one. When they all finished there, they joined Gloria at her table.

"What kept you guys?" She asked when they placed their trays down beside her.

"Wesley needed to talk to his mommy," Tyler teased.

"I haven't talked to her for a week; sorry if my communicating with her offended you," Wesley defended.

"Hey, what was with that look on her face?" Kyle wondered, remembering the scene that he'd walked into.

"I have no clue. I just mentioned Atrox; apparently, she went to the Academy with him."

"Well, the memories that arise from _that_ are probably pretty traumatic. No wonder she looked like that," Tyler snickered.

"Hey! That's my mom you're talking about!"

The conversation continued as such until Wesley glanced at the faculty section of the Cafeteria, noticing that it was entirely empty.

"Hey, where are all the teachers, and stuff?" he asked.

"There's an invasion on the campus and they're all battling the aliens with their bare hands!" Kyle grinned after the group turned to look at the area in question.

"…Wait, what?" Wesley asked, confused, after contemplating Kyle's response for a second.

"Ignore him. That's what hesays every time the professors are missing. They're probably just in a meeting," Gloria rolled her eyes once again.

"…A meeting about aliens!" Tyler laughed.

"This is what I get for hanging around teenage boys," Gloria mumbled to herself, ignoring the laughter.

* * *

A/N: Okay, my Spellcheck says that "Beverly's eyes widened in shock at the prospect." is a fragment. Either I'm an idiot, or Bill Gates needs a slap across the face. =D

I have the general plot figured out, but I'm still working on getting there; so, suggestions are still, and always, welcome. The whole Darwin thing is based off of my Biology teacher: she is a FANGIRL. It's epic win. Review?


	5. Necrotizing Myocarditis: How it's Made

A/N: Uh, Okay, I can explain... I know I haven't updated in, well, a month, but I'm so sorry! First I had the flu, then there was homework to make up for having the flu, then MUNI... Okay, there's no excuse, but I'll try harder from now on to update faster! Oh, and if 'Vurillin stredoccus' sounds weird, it's because I made it up. But 'Necrotizing Myocarditis' is actually a very medically accurate term for a disease I made up! Thank god for parents who are doctors and Wikipedia. The whole disease-thing comes up as a plot point later, don't worry, I'm not just going on the fly.

* * *

"Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis is caused by the bacteria Romulus Vurillin stredoccus. Although it does act in a similar way to Terran Myocarditis, it actually releases toxins that 'eat' away at the muscles of the heart, instead of causing inflammation. But, it does have the about the same prognosis and death rate, being the leading cause of bacterial disease deaths in Romulans. Vulcans have also been known to be infected with RNM, but usually not unless they've been in contact with an infected Romulan; which is hard to do because it attacks and seriously cripples the heart in a couple of days, usually two or three. Like Charles Darwin, it acts fast. _The Origin of Species_ sold out as soon as it was released! An impressive feat in those days."

Cadet Wesley Crusher was sitting in his Exobiology class, staring at his teacher, Professor Tebrag, lecturing about Romulan diseases (and, apparently, Charles Darwin). It was three weeks after the 'meeting about aliens,' and, needless to say, there had been no such invasions by aliens of any kind. Kyle still hadn't given up hope, though.

Cadet Kyle Simmons snickered from beside Wesley. "Isn't an insult to compare him to a flesh-eating disease?" he whispered to the clique that Wesley had acquired in his short month at Starfleet Academy.

"Apparently not," Cadet Tyler Fillmore grinned from the other side of Gloria Evans, who was trying not to laugh into her hand.

Wesley just rolled his eyes at his favorite teacher. People often said she was obsessed with Charles Darwin. People were often right.

"The reason RNM is so interesting is because no one is sure how it's transmitted. Some strains are highly contagious, while others can only be transmitted through direct contact. Its unpredictability makes it extremely hard to prevent. Just like the Romulans it infects, we can never really figure them out," Professor Tebrag continued after her brief speech about Darwin. "One day they're writing up peace treaties, next day there's an intercepted subspace 'Zimmermann Telegram…'"

What seemed to be an ordinary trailing off (Tebrag did that often) had a completely unordinary effect on the class. Many of them had just covered World War I in Earth History and snapped their heads towards the old Andorian, sitting up straight.

"Wait, what?" Kyle blurted out, describing exactly the thoughts in everyone's heads.

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to mention that," Tebrag realized, mentally slapping herself.

"Mention what?" several people in the room demanded at once.

"It's really nothing," Tebrag insisted. "There was just this alleged-Academy-takeover thing going around a few weeks back. Just some paranoid old Admirals, if you ask me," she concluded.

But no one was asking; they were already making opinions for themselves.

-

Kyle and Cadet Allison Carton spent some time discussing the probability of a Romulan invasion within the next twenty minutes. Sitting in their Astrophysics class, everyone who'd been in Exobiology twenty minutes earlier were quickly informing the ones who hadn't about the imminent takeover of the Academy. Having discussed it into the beginning of their next class, naturally, the conversation had been thrown upon Professor Sutok.

"What do you think Professor Sutok?" inquired Gloria, sarcastically, tired of listening to Allison and Kyle's ramblings. "Are the Romulans going to kill us all?"

"I believe that it is illogical to assume that the Romulans are going to invade Starfleet Academy based solely on a piece of gossip you heard twenty-five minutes ago," Sutok explained, blinking.

And that was the end of that.

-

Beverly sprinted across sickbay with an armful of Hypos, throwing them at Crewmembers.

"Don't forget to examine anyone who's got pointy ears!" she yelled at no one in particular while forcing a multitude of Hypos in Ensign Rogers' fist.

Doctor Beverly Crusher was Chief Medical Officer aboard the _USS Enterprise-D_, and, currently, was facing an epidemic. Twelve Vulcans, twenty-seven half-Vulcans, four one-quarter Vulcans, and one one-quarter Romulan had, in the last seventeen hours, been admitted in sickbay with anything from a vague chest pain to a full-blown heart attack.

"I want a heart monitor on anyone with a cough!" Beverly ordered. Turning around, she nearly smacked into Data, who was standing right behind her.

"Oh, sorry, Data. Didn't see you there."

Lieutenant Commander Data was Second Officer aboard the same _Enterprise_ and had been sent from the bridge to get a progress report/help in any way he could. He got a strange impression from the look on Dr. Crusher's face that she wanted neither, no matter how much she might've needed either.

"Yes, the outbreak of Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis has been quite distracting. The varying transmission methods of the bacteria make it extremely difficult to trace and prevent."

"Yes, yes, I know. I've been up for twenty-four hours—"

"Seventeen hours, thirty-six minutes."

"…Yes. I've been up for…" she glanced at Data, "seventeen hours, thirty-six minutes trying to trace and cure RNM in a day when it hasn't been traced or cured in the past three-hundred-some years."

"I believe that Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis has been the leading cause of death in Romulans for four-hundred and nineteen years."

"Yes, that's great. Encourage me, why don't you," Beverly ran her hand through her hair, frustrated with anything that moved; Data's lips were moving a lot.

Data looked at Dr. Crusher confusedly. He was about to open his mouth to ask her about her peculiar behavior, when a disembodied voice spoke from his chest.

_Lieutenant Commander Data to the bridge._

"Coming, Captain," Data replied after tapping his communicator. He nodded to Dr. Crusher, who was encircling the room, but still managing to be in the center of the chaos at all times, and turned on his heel and left the room.

-

Picard ended the subspace message in his ready room and rested his head in his hands. This epidemic had not only taken the lives of thirty-eight members of his crew in the last twenty-nine hours, it threatened to take the lives of hundreds of others. Unless a medical miracle occurred, everyone on the _Enterprise_ with Vulcan ancestry that wasn't between seventeen and thirty was going to die.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard had spent the last thirty hours pulling at his hair (scalp?), trying to do anything he could to prevent the spread of Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis on his ship, but, now, it was impossible to stop the disease's rampage and protect his crew. Subspace messaging anyone who had a remote knowledge on the disease was all he could do; and, believe me, he was doing.

Sighing, Picard put down his 'tea, Earl Gray, hot,' and made his way to the door to the bridge. He would wait until they came close enough to contact the medical research facilities on Vulcan, then he could make some headway.

"So she slept with Wesley's Ancient Philosophies teacher?" was the conversation that Captain Picard had the pleasure of walking into when the doors slid open.

"I never said that," Counselor Deanna Troi clarified.

"What did you mean by 'passionate,' then?" Commander William Riker asked with a smirk.

"Will, I do not believe that this is an appropriate conversation to be having, especially considering the situation on board," Picard said decidedly and disapprovingly.

"Sorry, Captain," Riker apologized, still smirking. He turned around and joined Data at one of the science stations. Knowing he could continue his inquisition later, he asked Data for a full synopsis on the disease. Again.

Picard sighed, once again, and sat down in his chair. "Proceed with Warp Factor 9.8," he commanded the Ensign sitting at the conn. "Engage."

* * *

A/N: Well? I thought the end part with Picard was a little awkward... I also thought that whole thing seemed kind of rushed. If you have any suggestions to what Riker or Picard might actually say, feel free to hand them out! I've got this handy little bin to collect them in called _reviews_... =D


	6. What Does the Rain Wash Away?

A/N: Gah! I'm not sure why I'm procrastinating so much! And this hardly counts as a chapter, but I had to post _something. _So, here you go. Once again, I'm still watching the series. So if I mess up the canon, let me know! Oh! and I totally made up the term Glore-Whore and now have an undeniable urge to call the Gloria in my gym class that. =D

Shout out to Spocketh! I love you, man.

* * *

The usually silent classroom was filled with an unbearable din that day. Even as the doors slid open to reveal a less-than-pleasant professor in a less-than-pleasant mood, the students were too occupied with their discussion to notice.

Cadet Wesley Crusher sat in the front row with thoughts of horror running through his mind. The news of the outbreak of Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis had a bitterly ironic bite to it, considering his Exobiology class has just covered it. He knew that none of the senior officers were in danger, not being Romulan or Vulcan, but Romulus Vurillin stredoccus was known to mutate rapidly. Wesley couldn't keep the thoughts of it suddenly being able to affect the rest of the Enterprise-D, and his mother, out of his head.

The news of the epidemic, along with the rumored Romulan invasion, had set Starfleet Academy aflame with gossip these past two days. It also reset the attention that Wesley originally got for being 'The Enterprise Kid.' Everyone suddenly had questions about the Galaxy-class Starship. Again.

A rather irritated little man was now standing in front of the class and giving it the most frightening, intimidating glare most of them had ever received.

"Silence!" was the single word it took to end the disorder and acquire the complete attention from the room, most of them readjusting their position so they were sitting up straight.

The menacing glare continues as all the students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, trying to shake it off. It didn't work. If anything, it made the stare heavier and angrier.

"When the Romulans do invade," Professor Atrox said, his voice spitting venom, "I hope they don't forget to remind some of you of your manners."

And the way he said it was so sinister that Wesley, for the first time since Pentarus III, was afraid for his life.

-

The line to use the transporter pads in the front of Building E was so long that one would think Ambassador Spock was beaming down for a visit. Stretched from the console to the bathroom at the end of the hall and back again, it was pretty clear that anyone who wasn't in line before the turbo-lift wasn't getting out of the building in less than an hour.

"Jeez, it's not raining _that_ hard," observed Cadet Tyler Fillmore peering out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Unfortunately, at precisely that moment, the doors were wrenched open to unleash a heavy wind and pelting rain (and a couple of very cold cadets) on the unsuspecting Academy members.

"Speak for yourself," Cadet Allison Carton shivered, arriving from the outside. "I won't be able to change all day. And look at my hair!" she finished in a huff.

She happened to catch Cadet Gloria Evans rolling her eyes and playfully shoved a wet elbow into her ribs whining, "Don't make fun of me!"

"Well, are we going to weather the weather?" Cadet Kyle Simmons asked with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face.

"Do we have a choice? I'll never make it to Statistical Mechanics either way," mumbled Tyler under his breath.

"Sucks for you," teased Gloria. "I don't have Quantum Chemistry for another hour-and-a-half."

"Go die," Tyler muttered his new favorite insult, only half annoyed.

"I'm not going to be the one walking through that mess of a storm. You'll be lucky if you don't catch Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis."

At that, Wesley visibly tensed. It wasn't long before everyone realized and Tyler put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Wes," Gloria apologized earnestly at the same time Tyler chimed in with, "Hey, dude, it's going to be fine."

"Yeah, I bet your mom has already found a cure," Allison encouraged.

"And if not, we can unleash the disease on the Romulans when they invade!" Kyle grinned, releasing the anxiety that had built up in that oh-so-small space.

Wesley laughed along with the others and then glanced nervously at the windows. "Well, shall we weather the weather?"

"Might as well," Tyler sighed. "See you Allison, Glore-Whore."

"I hate it when he calls me that," Gloria sighed at a giggling Allison as the boys ran through the doors laughing.

-

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was checking-up on a dismal sickbay, searching for a read-headed doctor. He cringed at the sight of all the patients and tried to ignore the bleeping heart monitors, knowing one of them was likely to stop at any minute. Ensign Steve Rogers saw the look on the Captain's face and informed him that Doctor Crusher was in her office.

"…Beverly?" He asked tentatively, spying her with her head resting on her desk, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Doctor Beverly Crusher managed to choke out from underneath her arms.

"Oh, Beverly," Picard dropped down onto the chair opposite her, "you need to take a break. All of this stress it getting to you."

"I can't!" Beverly snapped her head up. "Those people are dying! I can't just 'take a break' and let them die! There's a cure to this disease somewhere, and I'm going to find it!"

"Beverly, you're not helping anyone like this. You need to get some rest."

"I can't; I just can't!" Beverly burst into tears and threw her head at her desk once more.

"Oh, Beverly," Picard dashed to the other side of the desk and enveloped her into a tight hug. "It's going to be alright; you just need some sleep," he said softly. He tapped the communicator on his chest, announced "Counselor Troi to sickbay," and listened for a confirmation from the other side. "It's going to be alright," he reassured, but he wasn't sure to whom he was reassuring.

* * *

A/N: Once again, I hate my Picard. And this is totally not a Picard/Crusher story, but if you ship them and like it, then make it so!

Feedback is greatly appreciated and so are suggestions! Oh, come on, you know you want to review.


	7. Fighting Over a Fight About Fighting

A/N: I know this took extremely long, but the plot of the story is finally introduced in this chapter! Oh, I feel so accomplished. I have no excuse for the college party scene. I was severely withdrawing from slash, okay?

* * *

"Ha, ha, okay, man. Just let me go check if I left my PADD in Building E," Wesley laughed, stepping on the transporter pad.

"Make sure Atrox doesn't catch you. Otherwise, He'll feed you to the Romulans!"

Cadet Wesley Crusher just smiled at the laughing Cadets Tyler Fillmore and Kyle Simmons as the transporter beam was activated. Materializing into a familiar setting, he noticed that, despite how late it was, there was still quite a line behind the console. He glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows and realized that it was still raining. Hard. Wesley walked off of the transporter and headed towards the classroom, trying to ignore the thunder and lightening that he wasn't sure how he'd missed before.

As the turbolift's doors opened to reveal the third floor of the building, where Wesley and his classmates had Ancient Philosophies, they also revealed two hushed vices, arguing. Wesley was too confused to be surprised, and crept closer to the voices, trying to understand what they were saying.

"I do not understand what you are speaking of," the unmistakable monotone of Professor Sutok floated from the hallway. Wesley reached for the wall and peered around the corner.

"You know perfectly well what I'm speaking of," sneered the voice Wesley knew oh-so-well, Professor Pravus Atrox.

"The 'Romulan invasion' was just unidentified subspace interference, and, I assure you, I know no more about its origin than you do."

Wesley nearly fell forward when he heard 'Romulan invasion.' He collected himself just in time to hear Atrox say, "—your plan. You can admit it any time you want; I know what you really are."

"I am sure I didn't plan anything. What are _you_ planning?"

"Okay, pretend," Atrox spat, "but we'll have a talk again, and then you can decide where your loyalties lie."

Wesley heard Atrox slink away and quickly ran into the nearest room when he realized he was coming in his direction. When he was certain both professors had left the immediate area, Wesley let out a large sigh and let what he just heard sink in. Did Atrox just accuse Professor Sutok of planning a Romulan invasion? Did Professor Sutok just accuse Atrox of planning a Romulan invasion? Wesley was so caught up trying to piece together the conversation he had heard, he didn't notice what room he had hid in. Turning around, Wesley realized how lucky he really was to escape being caught eavesdropping: he was in Atrox's office.

-

Wesley stepped into the common room of his residence hall and his eyes widened. He didn't realize that when Sean McDonald had said 'party,' he'd meant _party_.

"Wes, my man, glad you could make it!" Tyler proclaimed, slapping him on the back.

"What kept you?" Kyle asked loudly, trying to get himself heard over the music.

"Oh, uh," Wesley stammered, he wasn't sure if this was the right time to mention his almost-run-in with Atrox, "I'll tell you later."

"Works for me!" Kyle beamed throwing his arm around Wesley's shoulders and leaning against him casually.

"Ignore him, he's been drinking," Angela Cooper rolled her eyes, noticing Wesley's startled face.

"I haven't been drinking," Kyle slurred heavily with a look on his face that let everyone know he was kidding.

"Is that why you're still holding Wesley?" Gloria wondered with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"'S not my fault he's so cute," Kyle smirked, leaning in closer to Wesley.

"It's not like he can help it," Allison grinned, popping up next to him. "Don't take it out on the poor kid!"

"Okay," Wesley tore himself away from Kyle, "this is getting awkward."

The group laughed as Kyle announced, "Not as awkward as it's going to get," and proceeded to grab Angela from across the small circle they had made and force his lips upon hers, which would have been a lot more awkward if not for the fact that he pulled away before she could react and asked her to dance.

"How about you ask me when you're not drunk and not right after you've sexually assaulted me?" Angela said mockingly but pulled him towards the dance floor anyway.

Ignoring the cat-calls and wolf-whistles half the party was giving the two, Wesley pulled Gloria over to a corner, desperate for someone to tell him that there was a reasonable explanation for what he'd overheard between his professors.

After briefly recounting the situation, Gloria looked at him, surprised. "You're sure that's what they were saying?"

"Would I make something like that up?" Wesley yelled over the noise of the party.

"Wait right here," Gloria commanded urgently. She rushed into the crowd and reappeared almost instantly, pulling Tyler behind her. Before Tyler could even ask what was going on, Gloria grabbed Wesley and dragged both of them out of the party.

-

"Wesley, this could be serious, like, some sort of conspiracy!" Gloria attempted to whisper.

"Whoa, slow down there, Glore. What are you talking about?" Tyler demanded, alarmed.

Gloria and Wesley turned to Tyler, who was slightly hazy from the party, and recapped the encounter.

"So, let me get this straight," Tyler contemplated after a pause, "Sutok and Atrox are planning a Romulan invasion?"

"No, well, maybe, but the point is that _someone_ is," Gloria insisted.

"I really don't think we should jump to conclusions. I mean, what if I just heard it wrong?" Wesley hoped.

"Wesley, you heard Atrox accuse Sutok of planning a Romulan invasion! And then you heard Sutok accuse Atrox! Something is going on. What if that meeting last month actually discussed the possibility of an invasion?" Gloria was officially freaking out. "Think about it; this could totally be happening."

"Now that you mention it, it does make sense," Tyler admitted. "If there really was suspicion of a conspiracy, there's no way they would tell us, anyway."

"Exactly, they would put all their effort into keeping us from knowing. And Atrox confronting Sutok proves that he's suspicious about something, which means there's a reasonable amount of evidence that there _is_ some sort of conspiracy!" Gloria concluded confidently.

"Okay, so there's a conspiracy," Wesley gave in. "What do we do about it?"

"Who's your counselor?" Tyler looked at Wesley after a silence.

-

Doctor Beverly Crusher was flipping through hundreds of images of Romulus Vurillin stredoccus on the computer. Noticing nothing new in the pictures she'd seen before, she switched to reading articles about failed attempts at curing Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis. There were antibiotics and additive interactions of every kind, heart transplant surgeries, and even experiments with tranquilizers, all to no avail. Beverly groaned audibly and rested her head in her hands. What was missing from this list?

Yes, that was the question. Everything that anyone would ever consider trying to cure the infection was already considered some time in the last four-hundred and nineteen years. The cure to RNM was somewhere outside of that list and something so ludicrous, no one had thought of it yet.

Beverly went over the description of the disease again: _Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis is caused by the bacterium Romulus Vurillin stredoccus. The bacteria, once in the bloodstream, eventually finds the heart and cultivates in the right atrium, near the __sinoatrial node…_

Beverly slapped a hand across her mouth. She had an idea, a crazy, unconventional, desperate idea, but an idea nonetheless.

* * *

A/N: Oh, I'm so excited for this story! It's coming together so nicely! I am too happy for 1:30 in the morning. Review?


	8. Necrotizing Myocarditis: How it Works

A/N: I wrote this chapter while watching _Swamp Thing _and listening to Hannah Montana. Needless to say, I was deeply influenced by this and there is clear evidence of both in the following chapter. Haha, just kidding. About the evidence. _Swamp Thing_ is a really bad movie, by the way.

* * *

Dr. Beverly Crusher glanced around the observation lounge at the _Enterprise's _senior staff. They were all looking at her expectantly, which was reasonable, considering she had, in a hysterical fit, claimed that she knew how to cure Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis.

"Here goes nothing," Beverly thought to herself before delving into an explanation.

"As you all know, RNM, Romulan Necrotizing Myocarditis, is a type of heart infection. The exact nature of which is… yet to be determined. What we know is only what autopsies and failed attempts at treatment have told us," Beverly paused, gauging her peers' reactions.

"And what, exactly, have they told us?" Captain Picard asked after the pause grew into a silence.

"We know that the infection centrals in the right atrium, around the sinoatrial node. The pacemaker," Beverly clarified for a few of the crew members. "Um, we also know that it's resistant to every antibiotic known to the Federation, or at least all that we have access to; it accumulates in the bloodstream, so heart transplant is out of the question; and," she added with a small triumphant grin, " the longer the infection lasts, the slower the EKG, the slower the progression of the Myocarditis."

While Beverly was waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, the room stared blankly at her. All except for Lieutenant Commander Data, who was clearly processing the information with a confused look on his face.

"So, you're suggesting… what are you suggesting?" Commander Riker asked, confused, after a brief moment.

"Well, the bacterium, Romulus Vurillin stredoccus, manifests around the sinoatrial node and grows in symbiosis with the heart beat. Also, there hasn't been a single doctor or research facility that has been able grow the bacteria in an artificial organ, agar solution, or even a Petri dish!" Beverly exclaimed.

"Ah," Data suddenly grasped onto the strings Beverly was tossing out, "the sinoatrial node."

"Yes! The bacterium feeds off of the nerve impulses, not the muscle of the heart! It's the only answer that explains how four-hundred and nineteen years of research turned up with nothing: they were looking in the wrong place!"

"Is there a treatment?" Picard looked up, his voice wavering ever-so-slightly.

"If my theory is correct, most likely extracorporeal circulation," she glimpsed at her crew members, "heart bypass."

-

"I want the pumps cleaned, changed, checked every hour on the hour. I want everyone on antibiotics of every shape and kind. Be prepared for open heart surgery, defibrillators, even CPR, should it be needed. I'm going to need extra pumps, hundreds of extras. Nobody sleeps, nobody eats until every single patient is stable. Everyone is sedated; everyone has a CPB. Rogers, I sure hope you know what you're doing! Will somebody get me something to drink?"

"Beverly, if you don't calm down, I have a strange feeling you're going to need a CPB," Counselor Deanna Troi smiled, handing Dr. Crusher a glass of water.

"What? I've never known stress to cause cardiopulmonary failure to a degree that would require open heart—" Beverly stopped, seeing the look on Deanna's face. "Oh, you were joking."

Deanna just grinned before turning to the complete chaos that was sickbay. Her grin turned into a grimace as she looked up at Beverly.

"How long?"

"Days, most likely weeks. It really depends on how far along the RNM has gotten. And if this is the right treatment."

"You said it yourself: it's the only explanation that makes sense."

"That doesn't mean it's going to work, but we're running out of options."

"You're going to keep them sedated for weeks?"

"We'll probably resort to drug-induced comas for the bad cases," Beverly sighed. "We'll have the last of them out in a month, tops."

"If this is the right treatment," Deanna hinted.

"Let's hope."

-

Wesley, Tyler, and Gloria rushed into Counselor Lars Gallo's office, nearly startling him enough to make him fall out of his chair. Gallo couldn't even collect himself before the hysterics began.

Gallo heard the words "Romulan," "invasion," and "Atrox," but couldn't catch much of anything else. All three cadets were talking over each other and getting absolutely nothing across.

"Guys… hey, guys—Cadets!"

The three stopped instantly and stood at attention, looking a little ashamed.

"Now," Gallo sighed, "Do you have three have anything to discuss with me?"

"We know that the invasion threat is real," Gloria stated simply after exchanging glances with her classmates.

At that, Gallo let out a hearty laugh and wondered incredulously, "You guys came all the way down here and made all that noise about that Romulan invasion rumor?"

"We know that it's not a rumor. I heard Professor Sutok and Atrox arguing about it!" Wesley claimed, not fazed from Gallo's laughter.

"Arguing about what?" Gallo chuckled, but with a nervous glint in his eyes.

"About who was to blame for the 'subspace interference,'" Tyler said, staring down Gallo.

"But we have a feeling it was more than just subspace interference," Wesley continued.

"So, you came all the way down here and made all that noise because of a feeling?" Gallo still laughed, but his eyes still had a glint.

"There's no way they would argue like that over a rumor. They were accusing each other of planning a Romulan invasion!" Wesley exclaimed.

"What? Atrox would never do something like that! He's one of the persons responsible for identifying the interference!" Gallo looked up, surprised.

"Hah! So the threat is real!" Tyler grinned, feeling accomplished.

"If Atrox identified it, then it could be because he created it, maybe as a distraction for a real message?" Gloria wondered, thinking up possibilities.

"No, listen. Atrox is helping us. He's the person trying to find out what the interference was. And you three don't know what you're talking about. The invasion is a _rumor_, nothing more. It was just a possibility suggested by our more paranoid staff members. Now, I really think you should go enjoy you're weekend. Nothing is going on," Gallo reassured, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

"Can I hear it? The interference," Wesley asked just as his peers were about to give in and leave.

"Well, I've dealt with Romulans before, on the _Enterprise_. And I've identified messages in subspace before. I just want to help," Wesley added after seeing the look on Gallo's face.

"I, uh, am not sure that's appropriate—"

"I know I can help! Just let me listen to it. Granted, it's been a while, but I've done this before! What harm can come out of it?"

"I'll send a request to Admiral Hahn, but I can't make any guarantees," Gallo reasoned. "It may take some time, but I guess I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Counselor Gallo," Wesley said, determined. "I won't let you down."

-

"So, what do we do now?" Tyler asked as the three looked amongst each other in the hallway.

"I guess we wait and see," Wesley sighed.

"Not so fast," Gloria grinned, "We may not be able to listen to the interference right now, but the Academy computer has tons of information on Romulans."

"So?" Tyler wondered.

"We research," Gloria stated simply.

"Ugh," Tyler groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. Gloria never joked about studying; His weekend was _shot_.

* * *

A/N: Ooh, plot. Isn't it great? So, did any of you see the new Harry Potter movie? Damn, Alan Rickman is an awesome actor. They managed to catch that guy who plays Draco in a really awkward pubertal stage. I mean, all tall and skinny. And what was with the black blazers? Who raided Johnny Cash's wardrobe?

Hey, do you feel like reviewing, maybe? It only takes three and a half seconds to type 'It was good.' I'm serious; that is all I ask.


End file.
